Jun 21, 2007
One morning last week in Cleveland, I noticed a work crew along the highway. They were slowly picking up trash, and seemed to be chatting. It was an remarkably beautiful late Spring day for Cleveland, the Cavs were in the playoffs, and the city was feeling good in its Rise Up! campaign.
The languid pace of the men’s work reminded me of a hot afternoon in which I was part of a work crew, raking rocks to make a rich man’s private golf course in Illinois. Mr. Rich walked up on us, and, finding us in conversation, upbraided us for being slackers. We took our lumps, but when he walked away, we griped and bitched for the rest of the day, frustrated that we’d been caught in a lull and not earlier when we had dust in our teeth and rocks at our feet.
Anton Zuiker ☄
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